Chasing The Moon (Moonlight Mystique) - Chapter 50
Chapter 50
Beside the tomb of the Yi, several sword lights crisscrossed.
The drunken old man wielded nothing but a broken branch as his sword, yet he easily overpowered the three opponents, leaving them without the ability to retaliate.
Three sword energies swept out from the branch, sending Nan Wan and the other two sprawling on the ground.
Chong Zhao barely managed to support Er Yun.
The two of them felt their blood surging, but Nan Wan wasn’t as lucky.
He lay on the ground, coughing up blood, clearly far more severely injured than the others.
The drunken old man slowly approached the three of them.
Bai Shuo, hiding in the bushes at some unknown point, saw Chong Zhao in danger and was about to leap out when a pair of hands covered her mouth and dragged her back into the grass.
She turned her head and was met by a face heavily covered in makeup and another pair of eyes filled with grievance and anger.
Big Iron Flower and Fan Yue?!
Damn it! She had just arrived using a flying spell, but when did these two show up?!
The accusation in her young disciple’s eyes made Bai Shuo feel guilty. Before she could say anything, Big Iron Flower’s deep voice spoke up.
“Shh, don’t move! It’s not just you lot of misfits; even if all the disciples of both the immortal and demon clans in Yi city combined, none of them could defeat that gravekeeper!”
Bai Shuo was shocked and quickly pulled Big Iron Flower’s hand away. “Who is that old man? Isn’t Yi City supposed to have its spiritual energies sealed off? Why isn’t it working on him?”
Big Iron Flower looked into the distance.
“Do you know Rong Xian and Chang Linglong?”
Bai Shuo froze for a moment.
She had indeed heard of them.
Rong Xian was a sword cultivator of Kunlun a thousand years ago, and Chang Linglong was the fox clan’s leader from that same period.
These two were the first couple in history where an immortal and a demon fell in love.
Six thousand years ago, after the realm of the gods was sealed and the demon god destroyed the world, the demon race became despised by mortals.
For tens of thousands of years, the two races waged war, and it was impossible to say whether the demons killed more immortals or vice versa.
The long years of bloodshed made it impossible for any connection between the two races to be tolerated, let alone love.
Yet, against all odds, Rong Xian, the first disciple of Kunlun, fell in love with Chang Linglong, the leader of the fox clan.
The two, uninterested in the immortal-demon conflicts, willingly abandoned the Kunlun Sect Master and the Fox clan leader positions, and went into hiding together.
Their love story became a legendary tale across the three realms.
But happiness didn’t last long.
A few years later, Rong Xian suddenly returned to Kunlun to inherit the position of sect master, betraying his lover without mercy.
Leading Kunlun disciples, he stormed into the demon realm and personally stabbed Chang Linglong on the battlefield, leaving her body riddled with wounds.
However, evil deeds are always repaid; Rong Xian, for his betrayal, went mad while cultivating in Kunlun, nearly wiping out his own sect.
It was only thanks to the timely intervention of the Heavenly Emperor Mu Guang that Kunlun was saved from total destruction, and Rong Xian was executed under the Sun and Moon Wheels.
Shortly after, the Heavenly Emperor built Yi City in the wilderness.
“I’ve heard of them. But what’s the point of bringing up this old, dried-up history now?”
“You’ve only heard part of the story. Rong Xian and Chang Linglong were the first immortal-demon couple in the three realms. What people don’t know is that they had a child,” Big Iron Flower sighed.
“A child?”
Bai Shuo looked towards the three unmarked graves and suddenly turned her head.
“Are you saying that those three graves are…?”
But if Rong Xian’s family is buried here, then who is the old man guarding the grave?
Big Iron Flower didn’t have time to answer, because by the tomb, the drunken old man had already made his move.
The drunken old man walked toward the three, continuously unleashing sword energy, striking directly at Nan Wan’s forehead.
Nan Wan’s eyes filled with terror, but just then, Chong Zhao leapt up, blocking the attack with his sword and pulling Nan Wan away just in time.
Nan Wan looked at Chong Zhao in shock and confusion.
How could this mere disciple of the Piaomiao Sect possess such formidable swordsmanship and spiritual energy? Even with the spiritual-locking seal restriction, he surpassed him!
“Senior, this is merely a competition for the Wutong Heartfire. We’ve already lost. Why do you need to take his life?”
The drunken old man let out a faint “hmm,” raising his drunken gaze.
“I never expected the first disciple of Yunxiao to be outmatched by a nobody. Boy, are you from the Piaomiao Sect?”
“I am,” Chong Zhao replied solemnly, not underestimating his opponent.
“Impressive. Boy, I like you. I’ll spare your life.”
The drunken old man glanced at Nan Wan, his eyes flashing with a hint of demonic energy.
“As for him, he touched the tombstone. In my eyes, he’s as good as dead!”
The drunken old man unleashed another wave of sword energy, but another sword suddenly intervened.
Er Yun flew forward, joining Chong Zhao to shield Nan Wan.
“What? You two want to die with him?” The drunken old man’s voice darkened.
“The sects of the immortal realm are united. Even if I can’t defeat you, I won’t stand by and watch you kill him,” Chong Zhao declared, holding his sword in front of him.
“United? What a joke!” The drunken old man’s eyes glimmered with mockery.
“If you’re so eager to die, I’ll grant your wish!”
The drunken old man’s withered branch swept toward Chong Zhao.
Chong Zhao and Er Yun struggled to hold him off, but at that moment, Nan Wan, lying on the ground, suddenly leapt up and launched a sneak attack, stabbing the drunken old man while he was entangled with the two.
The immortal sword pierced the body, and spiritual energy exploded.
The drunken old man grunted, lowering his head to look at the sword protruding from his abdomen.
Chong Zhao’s expression changed.
The joy on Nan Wan’s face had no time to spread because he saw no joy in Chong Zhao’s eyes—only terror.
Following Chong Zhao’s gaze, Nan Wan’s heart froze.
There was no trace of blood beneath the sword piercing the drunken old man’s abdomen.
A chill ran through Nan Wan.
Just as he tried to withdraw his sword, the drunken old man turned his head and grinned eerily at him.
His frail, twig-like hands had already gripped the sword tightly.
With a crack, the drunken old man snapped the sword in half.
A golden light radiated from him, and his entire body exploded into a cloud of mist.
The drunken old man had no physical form?!
What on earth was he?
Nan Wan had no time to think.
The cloud of mist reformed behind him, taking human shape once more, and the drunken old man, holding the broken sword, aimed it straight at Nan Wan’s chest.
“Senior, no!”
Chong Zhao’s expression changed dramatically as he flew to intercept, but it was too late.
Bai Shuo, hidden in the bushes, let out a startled cry.
Just as Nan Wan was about to be struck down in a spray of blood, a immortal sword shot through the air.
The sword’s energy was powerful and pure, not aimed at the drunken old man, but directly at Nan Wan.
The white sword energy collided with Nan Wan, sending him flying, while the drunken old man’s broken sword stabbed only empty air.
Nan Wan’s life was spared.
Bai Shuo, anxiously watching the rapidly changing battle from the bushes, suddenly had a thought flash through her mind.
Why?
This drunken old man seemed neither immortal nor demon, certainly no benevolent figure, and instead harbored deep hostility toward both races.
Why would the revered Immortal Jinyao place the Wutong heartfire at this Yi tomb? Crushing them was as easy as crushing ants for the drunken old man.
Surely, Immoratl Jinyao wouldn’t send immortal and demon disciples to their deaths like this?
By the tomb, the white immortal sword, having landed its blow, didn’t linger and quickly returned to its master.
Everyone looked up and saw a white-robed immortal lord slowly walking out from under a withered tree—it was Beichen of Kunlun.
What was he doing here?
The drunken old man stared at Beichen, letting out a strange laugh.
“A Kunlun sword cultivator?”
Beichen looked at the drunken old man and spoke slowly, “Nan Wan came only for the Wutong spiritual tool and meant no offense to the ancestors. I ask the senior to show mercy.”
“Mercy?”
The drunken old man seemed to loathe these words, gulping down a mouthful of wine.
“Trash of the immortal sects, alive or dead, you’re all a plague.”
While he drank, his hands didn’t stop moving.
In an instant, the withered branch in his hand glowed with spiritual light and transformed into an immortal sword, which he sent flying toward Beichen.
Unexpectedly, Beichen didn’t dodge the sword light, leaving everyone watching aghast.
“Lord Beichen!”
In the blink of an eye, the immortal sword stopped just an inch from Beichen’s forehead.
The drunken old man squinted at him.
“Why didn’t you dodge?”
“Kunlun’s teachings say that when faced with a senior, one neither fights, nor flees, nor retaliates.”
“Not fight, not flee, not retaliate… What a load of false righteousness! Kunlun deserves to die!”
The drunken old man sneered.
With a wave of his hand, the sword’s light trembled and continued to press toward Beichen’s forehead.
Yet Beichen still didn’t dodge, instead closing his eyes.
What kind of lunatics are these?!
“Rong Xian, Senior!”
In the dark night, a voice shouted, and the immortal sword piercing Beichen’s brow suddenly halted.
A thin line of blood trickled from his forehead.
Amid the tense standstill, Bai Shuo rushed forward with a single step, her face filled with anxiety.
Chong Zhao watched her sudden appearance, his expression shifting through several emotions as he angrily glared at the young man who slowly emerged from the darkness behind Bai Shuo.
However, this young man was no longer the timid figure from the inn; instead, there was a hint of coldness in his gaze.
His eyes followed Bai Shuo closely, as if everyone else was beneath notice.
Everyone was stunned by Bai Shuo’s sudden arrival, especially Nan Wan.
After all the commotion, the fake mustache on Bai Shuo’s face had long since fallen off.
Catching a glimpse of the concern in Chong Zhao’s eyes, Nan Wan instantly realized he had been tricked by Bai Shuo.
“You!”
He pointed at Bai Shuo, his face darkening, but then suddenly remembered the name Bai Shuo had just shouted at the drunken old man.
Rong Xian?
The former head of Kunlun from a thousand years ago?
Wasn’t he already dead?
Everyone turned to look at the drunken old man, who now stared deeply at Bai Shuo, his face expressionless.
“What did you call me?”
“Senior Rong Xian,” Bai Shuo took a step forward, subtly positioning herself in front of Chong Zhao.
“Who’s Rong Xian? That beast died long ago,” the drunken old man sneered.
“How could he be the former leader of Kunlun? Rong Xian went mad a thousand years ago and died at the hands of His Majesty Mu Guang!”
Nan Wan gasped, struggling to get up from the ground, his eyes filled with disbelief as he looked at the drunken old man.
“A thousand years ago, Senior slaughtered nearly the entire Kunlun sect, leaving it on the brink of collapse. There are no more old grudges to settle with Kunlun now. If it weren’t senior standing before him, Lord Beichen wouldn’t have kept his sword sheathed!”
The drunken old man’s mocking laughter abruptly ceased.
His long white hair hung down, covering his deeply wrinkled face.
Bai Shuo glanced at Beichen and spoke slowly, “Lord Beichen, you have never met Sect Master Rong Xian. What you recognized was the Kunlun sword energy, wasn’t it?”
Everyone turned their gaze toward Beichen.
At Beichen’s forehead, the immortal sword radiated with intense spiritual light. Without speaking, Beichen simply pointed at the immortal sword, and the spiritual light dissipated from the blade that had once been the withered tree, revealing a pristine, snow-white sword—it was a Kunlun iron sword!
The white iron sword flew back to the drunken old man’s side, brushing against his hand with a faint hum.
Beichen’s lack of denial was itself an admission—the drunken old man truly was Rong Xian, the former sect master of Kunlun!
“No matter what happened a thousand years ago, Lord Beichen is merely a disciple of Kunlun. He had no part in the events of the past. Why harm the innocent, Senior?”
“Innocent? If he’s innocent, then the whole world is innocent!”
The drunken old man suddenly lifted his eyes, a red light flashing with a touch of madness.
Without warning, he swung his sword at Bai Shuo.
Is this former Kunlun sect master mad, attacking anyone he sees?
Chong Zhao and Fan Yue both rushed to protect Bai Shuo, but she seemed to have anticipated Rong Xian’s strike.
Just before the sword moved, she suddenly grabbed someone nearby and used them as a shield.
The iron sword stopped just short of piercing that person’s chest.
